


A Knot Most Tangled

by ArgylePirateWD



Series: The Matrimonial Matter [1]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Hangover, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning After, Woke Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry and Lucas tie the knot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knot Most Tangled

**Author's Note:**

> Tropes: Accidental Marriage, In Vino Veritas, Dub-con, First Time (offscreen), mentions of some offscreen Gen (and not-so-gen) Bed Sharing, and a dash of Pining
> 
> Probably part one of a series. Hopefully this part stands alone.
> 
> Rated for details about offscreen drunk sex. Mildly Dubious Consent alert because of all the consent issues connected to drunk sex, drunk marriage, and whatnot. Henry and Lucas are mostly okay with what happened, though both are terribly embarrassed and kicking themselves for what they did last night. Also, several mentions of nausea.
> 
> Jo knows The Big Secret™ in this post-finale 'verse, but Lucas doesn't yet. #sorrynotsorrymatt
> 
> And, finally, this fic is about as accurate about the legal system as the show itself. So there's about a 99% chance that it's not at all accurate.

At first, Henry didn't realize the ring wasn't supposed to be on his finger.

Through narrowed and bleary eyes, Henry studied the ring. His half-inebriated mind didn't question the plain, gold band. He was a happily married man, with a wonderful wife and child—why on earth wouldn't he have a ring when he hadn't died recently? Though it was tighter than he would have preferred, and thinner as well. Not important.

His head, however, was important. Dear God, his _head._ Pain reverberated through his skull, just enough to make him miserable in spite of his high tolerance. He opened his eyes fully, and the dim light from the bathroom stabbed him in the face. Huge mistake. Moaning, he shielded his eyes with his hands, and waited for the pain to settle down to a more tolerable throb.

Diagnosis: Hangover—a rather nasty one. Horrendous headache, churning stomach, and the disgusting taste of old alcohol and unclean teeth lingering in his mouth. But that didn't make sense. Why was he hung over? Why did he get so drunk in the first place? And why did the person beside him seem taller than Abigail?

Henry forced himself upright. Stretched out beside him, sleeping peacefully, was Lucas. His stomach sank. Vegas, conference, sharing a bed because of a mistake with their reservations. But Henry would never sleep in the nude beside a colleague—so why was he wearing nothing but a wedding ring?

_"I really wanna marry you someday. Or, hey, how 'bout tonight? That'd be fun!"_

_"I'm going to need a little more alcohol for that."_

Alcohol. Lucas. A wedding. Confusion gave way to overwhelming dread. Decades had passed since he'd last worn a wedding band, and yet when he woke with one on, he didn't question it. He should have. Had he and Lucas gotten married?

Slowly, he peeled down the covers, intent on revealing Lucas's hands. Dark, distinctive bruises marred the skin over Lucas's collarbone, and ran down his chest—love bites. Henry suspected he was the one who'd left those, that he'd mouthed his way down toward Lucas's groin, spurred on by frantic repetitions of his name and _yes_. After that, events became hazy, and Henry had a distinct feeling he didn't want to know exactly what had happened next.

Especially when he considered the telltale soreness of his backside. Dear Lord. They'd had sex, hadn't they?

Finally, he uncovered what he'd been looking for beneath the sheets. Damn. There was a ring on Lucas's left hand that matched the one on his own finger. Lucas was his husband. Alcohol, a small wedding chapel, shared kisses, cheap rings. Yes, he and Lucas were married. Regrets and his hangover slammed into Henry's gut, and Henry bolted for the nearest garbage bin.

Such an auspicious start to a marriage.

Fortunately, the sick stomach was a false alarm. The marriage, however, was not. As he sank into a chair, he spotted the marriage license lying on a nearby table. He snatched it up and examined it, silently begging for a sign it wasn't real, for it to be a souvenir from a prank.

But it looked real. Horrifyingly real. Somehow, a night filled with beautiful women, tequila—a drink he'd never cared for, but "when in Rome" seemed to apply to Las Vegas these days—Lucas's spot of unsuccessful poker, and someone calling him and Lucas a "cute couple" had all ended with rings on his and Lucas's fingers and a seemingly-legitimate marriage certificate on the table.

Henry held his face in his hands and groaned quietly. Married to an employee he'd just begun thinking of as a friend, and who admired him greatly. Lucas was his husband. Henry was Lucas's husband. They'd engaged in some form of sexual activity. And, considering the time their flight would depart, they wouldn't have time to deal with the situation before heading to the airport.

Abe and Jo had teased him about the trip to Las Vegas, both making jokes about him coming home married. He'd laughed along with them, promising he wouldn't. They had nothing to worry about, he'd told them. The sort of revelry that could end with an ill-advised marriage didn't appeal to him in the slightest. They were going to have a field day when he revealed otherwise.

Though certainly the union wasn't legal. They'd both been horribly impaired—perhaps that would be taken into consideration. If not, his life as "Dr. Henry Morgan, medical examiner" was a paper construct, built from forged documents and two centuries of experience. The validity of any marriage to him was dubious at best, surely.

Briefly, the thought that they weren't legally wed consoled him, but reality was hardly that simple or kind. Revealing that he was a fraud in order to annul an impromptu marriage would utterly ruin this life that he loved, and would have ramifications that extended far beyond himself. Heaven only knew how many verdicts would be thrown out if his deception were revealed, and what of the impact on Abe, on Jo, on Lucas?

He and Lucas would have to end the marriage properly.

Lucas stirred, and Henry held his breath. The longer Lucas stayed asleep, the longer their conversation would be delayed. But luck wasn't on Henry's side. A small moan came from Lucas's direction, and Lucas snagged Henry's discarded pillow and put it over his face.

"Ow," Lucas said, voice muffled by the pillow. " _Ow._ "

Duty called. Henry forced himself to his feet, and he went and filled two glasses of water, then fetched a bottle of aspirin from his bag.

"Good morning," he whispered, setting the glasses on the nightstand. "How are you feeling?"

Lucas grunted, and repeated, "Ow."

"I understand the sentiment completely."

"Think I'm dead." Lucas tossed the pillow aside, and looked at Henry with bleary eyes. "Mouth tastes like morgue. Ugh."

Henry made a face. "I understand that one as well," he said, and offered Lucas two pills, followed by a glass. "Here. Drink, but not too fast. You need it."

With a mumbled, "'kay," Lucas sat up slowly. As soon as he'd accepted the glass, Lucas spotted the ring on his finger. "Wha—? What's this?"

Cursing Lucas's left-handedness, Henry said, "A mistake that we are going to rectify as soon as we can," and he gingerly sat on the edge of the mattress. At Lucas's questioning look, he explained, "Judging by the matching rings, the rather intimidating document on the table over there, and my hazy recollection of last night, we..." He trailed off, cringing. "We appear to have gotten married."

The glass fell from Lucas's hand, spilling water all over him and the bed.

* * *

_"Marry me, Henry Morgan." Lucas stumbled off of his stool, then wobbled down on one knee and gave Henry a wide-eyed, pleading look. "I know I don't have a ring, but will you marry me tonight? Please?"_

Once Lucas dried off and both of them were dressed, they sat across from each other at the room's small table, nursing their glasses of water, trapped in awkward silence. Henry half-wished for something stronger, to numb his embarrassment, but considering alcohol was what got them into this mess, perhaps that wasn't a good idea.

Christ, this was a nightmare.

When he could no longer stand the horrendous quiet, Henry spoke. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened," he said. "Last night, my behavior was…unbecoming of a man of my age and position at work. I apologize."

"What?" Lucas's face screwed up in confusion. "Yeah, okay, I'm still a little drunk. Like, I can usually understand your old school gentleman talk, but I think I need a modern translation. Sorry."

"Right." Henry gave him a tight half-smile. "How is this: I should not have gotten so intoxicated last night—not at my age, and not while accompanied by an employee. Is that better?"

"You're sorry you got drunk with me, 'cause you're older than me, and you're my boss," Lucas said, slowly, then nodded his head once. "Gotcha."

"Indeed."

Lucas shrugged a shoulder. "Eh, it takes two to tango—or get married. And I'm the one who got you to give tequila another shot." After a moment, Lucas giggled. "'Tequila another shot,' tequila shots? I totally didn't mean to do that…and you're not laughing." His face fell, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Um. Anyway. It's not just your fault. I said, 'Tequila,' you said, 'Never again,' I said, 'Come on!' and then later on we both said, 'I do.' Not just you."

"And now I _definitely_ plan to never drink tequila again." Henry shuddered.

"That's what everybody says."

And Henry had a lot more 'never' ahead of him than the rest of the world.

Lucas leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "So, uh...how much do you remember about last night?"

A mild panic seized him. He'd had so much to drink—did he tell Lucas his secret? "Bits and pieces," he said, carefully, and studied Lucas's face. "You?"

"Oh, um, you know...the same." Lucas's cheeks flushed, and he shifted in his seat and tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Bits and pieces here and there. Poker, alcohol, stuff. So, uh, nothing in particular?"

No, Lucas would have been excited, not uneasy, if Henry had revealed his immortality. Judging by the tone of voice and the reddened cheeks, Henry guessed Lucas had something he wanted Henry to forget. Was it the sex? Images of soft skin filled Henry's mind, memories of flesh beneath his lips, small moans and ragged breaths, the smell of sweat, the sharp tastes of salt and alcohol. Lucas slicking his long fingers with lubricant. The stretch of those fingers inside him. The burn of Lucas pushing into him.

Nothing in particular? No, he recalled _too much._ Damn his vivid imagination for making him recall so much of the encounter in pornographic detail. "Well, we, ah..." He cleared his throat. "We consummated our marriage."

"Really?" Lucas's voice shot up in pitch. "What did we...seriously?"

Henry nodded, and gave Lucas a moment to evaluate and put together any memories. A small part of him hoped Lucas wouldn't remember. Most of him knew it would be much better if Lucas did.

"Hang on," Lucas said. "If we did the do, why am I not feeling it? I thought you were supposed to be pretty sore after you...oh." Realization seemed to dawn on him. " _Oh._ Did I...was I on top? Did I top?"

"If I'm remembering correctly, yes." As more returned to Henry, he ended up with a vague, mortifying impression of why. For vanity's sake, he hoped Lucas would remain oblivious to those performance difficulties. Perhaps if he appealed to Lucas's ego...yes. "And, from what I can recall, you were rather good at it, for a drunk."

"I was?" Lucas's mouth hung open. "Wow. Seriously, you...That's. I. Wow. I've never done that before. And I was good?" He pumped his fist and quietly said, "Yes!"

Henry couldn't help but chuckle. "Hopefully you'll get the opportunity to do it with someone you truly like next time."

"'Truly like'...wait, do you not remember what I told you? 'Cause I wasn't wondering if you remembered the sex. I was talking about..." Abruptly, Lucas shut his mouth, and gave Henry a forced smile as he rose from his seat. "You know what?" he asked, words coming out in a rush. "Nevermind. It's not that important. We should get to the airport. Our flight's gonna leave in a, uh—" He glanced toward the alarm clock. "Soon. Yeah, it's gonna leave soon, and we don't want to miss it."

"Lucas." Henry quickly caught Lucas by the wrist, and immediately regretted the movement. His head swam and his stomach roiled, and he told himself, _You've handled worse than this,_ and forced himself to press on like nothing was amiss. "Even considering the nature of airport security these days, it's hardly time for us to depart just yet. Like it or not, we need to discuss this situation and figure out everything we're dealing with here. The sooner we piece together as much of last night's events as possible, the sooner we can both move on with our lives as though this never happened."

"Right," Lucas said, as he returned to his seat. "Like it never happened. Got it. Never happened."

"Is there a problem with that?" Henry asked. "Neither of us planned this, and we're not in a relationship. I don't think staying married to each other would be a good idea."

Lucas slumped down lower in his chair. "I know," he said, wrapping his arms around himself. "We're not in a relationship, we're not dating, we never will be..." He trailed off, and heaved a sigh. "Sorry. Things are a little—" He waved toward his head. "—weird right now. I'm sorry."

The bitterness of Lucas's tone nagged at Henry. He was forgetting something—something important. Something he suspected would explain all. If only he could remember.

Perhaps turning his attention elsewhere would help more than wracking his addled brain. _A little weird._ That was an understatement. "Apology accepted," Henry said. "I must admit, I too am rattled by what has happened between us. Marriage is an important commitment. It's supposed to _mean_ something, and this doesn't. I've always taken marriage very seriously." He shook his head. "And I never, ever thought I'd be in need of an annulment or a divorce someday."

"Divorce?" Lucas scoffed. "I never thought I'd be someone who got _married._ "

Henry was taken aback. "Whyever not?" he asked, and Lucas sagged even lower. "I know you've had bad luck with relationships in the past, but you're a fine young man. One day, you'll find someone you're compatible with, and—"

Lucas was wincing, though, and Henry dropped the subject. "So, our plan should probably be to contact a lawyer as soon as we arrive in New York."

"Uh-uh." Lucas rubbed his eyes. "Gimme a day."

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"So?" Lucas said. "I need to sleep it off a little more. I'm a frickin' zombie—no, wait. I think zombies are usually doing better than me. I feel about like some of the guys we cut up every day. Like the really old ones who are all, like, rotten and stinky and halfway, y'know, gone." Lucas yawned. "I'm not as up-and-at-'em as you."

"And I'm hardly as 'up-and-at-'em' as I may seem." Henry propped up his heavy, throbbing head with an elbow on the table, and pressed his other hand to his belly. He'd handled worse than a brutal hangover and some humiliation, certainly, but he doubted he'd ever become used to the sheer misery of nausea. Most likely, he'd feel even worse after the flight. "You're right. Seeking legal counsel in our current state would likely be a terrible idea."

"Yep. Gotta get our brains really working first, so people won't think we wanna eat theirs."

The mere suggestion of eating anything, much less brains, filled Henry with revulsion. But, before he could comment, Lucas said, "Speaking of brains, like...how much do you remember from last night? Really. Or did you _forget_ everything?"

Tilting his head, Henry considered the peculiar emphasis placed upon "forget." Yes, Lucas wanted him to forget something.

_"I'm in love with you."_

Facts fell into place. The tone of Lucas's voice, the hurt in Lucas's eyes. Henry's heart sank. This was worse than a mere mistake, wasn't it?

"Lucas..." he began, but the rest of the words didn't come.

_"Do you wanna know a secret, Henry? I'm in love with you." Lucas laughed. "Crazy in love with you. Worst kept secret ever, am I right?"_

_The conversation had gone south so fast. Heaven only knew how they'd gone from idle chatter about card games to Lucas declaring his love. Even he couldn't make sense of the wild shift in topic._

_Though his inability to understand how might have been because he was completely soused._

_"I mean, I'm not that into guys," Lucas continued. "But you? You're perfect. And I love you, and I'm in love with you, and I want to kiss you a lot."_

_"You're drunk, Lucas," Henry said, then threw back another shot of tequila, suppressing a shudder. "Spectacularly drunk, like me. You don't know what you're saying."_

_"Yeah, I do, though," Lucas insisted. "I do. I really, really do. I just don't have the guts to say it when I'm sober, and it's something that needs to be said, so I'm gonna say it again: I think you're the most amazing dude in the history of forever, and I am crazy in love with you—like, marriage and babies and a puppy kind of love. White picket fences, husband and husband..." He leaned in, and before Henry's mind registered what was happening, Lucas had already kissed him and pulled away. "I'm really, really in love with you."_

_Oh. That. "I thought that was merely a crush."_

_"Nope. I think we're, like, epic romance novel kind of great for each other. And I really wanna marry you someday." He draped an arm over Henry's shoulders and pressed a sloppy kiss to Henry's cheek. "Or, hey, how 'bout tonight? That'd be fun!"_

_"I'm going to need a little more alcohol for that," Henry said, and he flagged down the bartender for another round of drinks._

_"Marry me, Henry Morgan." Lucas stumbled off of his stool, then wobbled down on one knee and gave Henry a wide-eyed, pleading look. "I know I don't have a ring, but will you marry me tonight? Please?"_

_Lucas stuck out his bottom lip, and Henry cringed. "Make that 'a lot more alcohol.'"_

"If you remember," Lucas quietly said, his eyes downcast, "could you pretend you don't, please?" He gave Henry a miserable smile. "I was drunk, you were drunk, things might've been said...and, I mean, I'm sure you've got drunk and said a few things you—"

"I don't remember a thing," Henry said.

"Really?"

"Truly," Henry replied. "We had no conversation regarding whatever romantic feelings you may or may not have for me."

Lucas exhaled loudly. "So, not talking about it?"

"Why on earth would we be talking about something that didn't happen?" But it did happen, and Lucas's confession was the sort of revelation that couldn't be ignored. Unrequited love had a way of coming back to haunt people.

 _You deserve to be with somebody who loves you,_ Henry wanted to say, _and someday, somebody_ will _love you._ Henry wasn't that person. Lucas was a wonderful man, who'd helped give Henry the invaluable gift of closure over Abigail. But Henry felt no romantic attraction toward him. At some point, they would need to address the matter, or else they'd lose their friendship.

Not yet. Dear God, not yet. One dilemma at a time, and the matrimonial matter was far more pressing. "Speaking of things we won't be talking about," Henry said, "our marriage. What happened between us was unbelievably inappropriate, especially on my part, but I was hoping you might be willing to keep quiet about this marriage debacle." That sounded rather awful, so Henry added, "Unless you feel as though I've wronged you, and you wish to pursue disciplinary action when we return to work..."

Lucas snorted. "I can think of worse people I could've got hitched to in Vegas," he said. "You're a catch—that's what my Nana would say. Smart, pretty nice once you get to know you, easy on the eyes..."

And old, Henry didn't say. Likely significantly older than Lucas's grandmother.

"Plus, you protected me from marrying a real weirdo," Lucas said. "I could've woke up next to, like, Hannibal Lecter or something this morning—or you could have—but instead, we both woke up next to someone we knew. Yeah, I mean, we drank, we got hitched, we had sex, but seriously, it could've been a _lot_ worse."

Henry didn't recognize the name, but suspected it was one of the many pop culture references Lucas had memorized. "When you put it like that..." Indeed, the situation could have been much worse. Had Lucas fallen into the hands of someone intent on hurting him, Henry doubted he could forgive himself.

"Right? Everything turned out okay." Lucas gave him a sympathetic look, and reached over the table and gently punched Henry's arm. "So stop beating yourself up over it, or worrying about it, or whatever you're doing, okay? It's fine. I'm fine. I'm cool with keeping it between us."

Then, with a grimace, Lucas added, "And I'm kind of afraid Detective Martinez might kill me over this."

"Why would she?" Henry asked, though he was well aware of what Lucas was implying. "She and Abe are going to be amused, certainly, but I don't think her reaction will be particularly extreme."

"Yeah, but aren't you two..." Lucas made an odd, almost lewd gesture with his hands. "You know. Together? Or almost together?"

"We're friends," Henry replied. "Not romantically involved with each other. And I don't see that changing anytime soon, either, so I doubt you'll need to worry about her wrath. But I will need to tell her. I'm..." He paused, carefully considering his wording. "On probation with her at the moment."

And he doubted she'd take kindly to him hiding more about himself from her. Though she'd handled his revelation about his immortality rather well, considering the circumstances, she'd made it perfectly clear that she wouldn't tolerate more lies and secrets about the most important parts of his life. An unplanned marriage likely fell under the "important" umbrella.

"She put you in the doghouse?" Lucas asked. "Aw, man, that's rough. What for?" Henry gave him an irritated look, and Lucas's expression dimmed. "Right, okay, still not friends. Sorry."

A pang of guilt jabbed Henry in the chest. "We are friends," he said. "Reciprocating friendship is not one of my talents, I'm afraid. Jo—and you—learned that the hard way. That's why she and I are strained at the moment. I am working on fixing that with her, and, if you don't mind, I'd like to work on our friendship as well. I've started to enjoy your company, and I believe we can become great friends. Perhaps we can use this mistake as a chance to get to know each other better?"

"I'd love that," Lucas said, a tentative smile spreading across his face, and Henry found himself smiling back.

Maybe some good would come out of them getting married after all.


End file.
